


Yearning for a Better Life

by odett54



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Bottom Will Graham, Cannibalism, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Oh My God, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Some what AU, Stabbing, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Timeline What Timeline, Top Hannibal Lecter, Wall Sex, What Was I Thinking?, be prepared, goodluck, this story is going to fuck with me more than you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odett54/pseuds/odett54
Summary: In which out teacup comes together, and doesn't quite shatter again... but only a ghost of what could've been...(Bad at summaries, sorry :} )





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will jump with different scenes but will also precariously follow down a familiar path to the show...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Locking it, I return to the living space, and collect our wine glasses. Stalking towards the kitchen, I’m vaguely aware of the opera music coming to a brief stop as the bravado cuts out. With a twitch of an impressioned smile, I turn my back to wash the glasses as I hear footsteps padding in.
> 
> Taking a brief inhale, the familiar scent filling my lungs, deriving a small ‘home’ pull from my chest as I dry the glasses before putting them in the cabinet. I turn amused as I stare into the deep aqua blue eyes and lean against the counter, “spying, were you?”....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter just getting my feet wet with the story idea. I think this is a good clue in of abigails on-set time with Hannibal...  
> Don't know when I'll be posting next

**Hannibal's POV** :  
  
The fire licks and basks the walls in a soft glow. The soft tempo of music filling the air around our ears as it settles into the background…  
“Hannibal, I have to get going, dinner was lovely as always" Alana rises from her seat and places her empty wine glass on the coffee table.  
“But of course," I say, rising from the seat and setting my glass down next to hers, “It's always a pleasure having you at my dinner table”

“How could I resist when I have my own brewery…” she amuses, following me as I lead her to retrieve her coat, “Still, I haven’t guessed the rest of the flavors in the beer..”

“Ahh, your palate may not be as refined as mine, but I still enjoy putting yours to the test”, I say as I hold open her coat for her.

“And, I love it being tested” Alana dips her arms through and swirls around, stepping into my space. Giving her a placid smile as she grins and leans in. I indulge her by making it last no more than the appropriate response time before gently stepping away to hold open the door for her.

“Goodnight, Alana,” I say, arranging my features to a warmer tone as I smile down at her.

“Night, Hannibal,” she says, as she wrapped her scarf around her small delicate neck, brushing her dark brown auburn hair-that is seemingly almost black in the pale light of the moon. Turning she waves half down the driveway, before continuing to her car. I watch her as she pulls out and down the road before I shut the door.

Locking it, I return to the living space, and collect our wine glasses. Stalking towards the kitchen, I’m vaguely aware of the opera music coming to a brief stop as the bravado cuts out. With a twitch of an impressioned smile, I turn my back to wash the glasses as I hear footsteps padding in.

Taking a brief inhale, the familiar scent filling my lungs, deriving a small ‘home’ pull from my chest  as I dry the glasses before putting them in the cabinet. I turn amused as I stare into the deep aqua blue eyes and lean against the counter, “spying, were you?”

“God I thought she’d never leave”, Abigail says, plopping down on the island stool.  
“Abigail, she could have-”

“I was careful” she insists, crossing her arms over her chest, “besides, I couldn’t sleep”

“Another nightmare”

“No, more of like… nothing” she says huffing.

“Nothing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Lately just a blackness...I get flashes images here and there but… I feel.. regret...guilt” she says her voice growing small which each passing word.

“Dreams are a mere reflection of what's hidden deep within our subconscious. Emotions tend to have a correlated derive from the images in your dreams. Your emotions are washing over you so strongly in your dreams, as you mind feels no need to keep them at bay anymore. Tell me, why do you think you feel regret?” I ask walking over to her side.

“I don't-”

“Do you regret faking your death?” I supply

She looks up from her hands and knits her eyebrows, “No, of course not… being here with you… and the thought of us leaving with Will someday… its.. It's the closest feeling to home I’ve ever had”

“Then, what is it?” I ask, pulling her into an embrace, smoothing her hair out of her face and behind her right ear. Her only ear.

“I regret that I don't feel as remorseful as I should, after what I had done,” she says, nuzzling her head in my shoulder.

“Killing is a powerful thing. It's a capability we are all born with, but is something not many have the act to do. Taking a life is no small act. It derives from our more primal and basic instincts like our fellow wild kin. You feel no remorse, not because you are unable to. But because it is in our nature. It is something our dear Will fears himself. The fear of coming into his own. But soon, he will be ready”  I say, a small smile ghosting my lips as I stare above her head.

“I miss him,” she says sadly.

“I know, but before we can all be together,” I say kissing her temple, “he must want this for himself”

“Will he ever be ready?” she asks almost in despair.

Hugging her tightly before releasing her, I smile down fondly at her, “Yes, but time will tell”

Guiding her back to her room upstairs, I can’t help the small tightness in my chest that blooms briefly, at the thought of maybe he never will ready. Maybe Wills moral compass is so ubsuqued from what he’s trying to be-- rather than what he’s meant to be. But with his on-set new promising air of darkness and power that's accompanied him since his release, beats back the previous thought, as the night ends...  


 


	2. Chapter 2

Will’s POV:

 

The early morning light dancing across the path before us, rippling in the cool water. A sense of peace filling the air as the fish take on a calmness, that's settled over the stream beneath us. Turning to the bag that's over my shoulder, I grab the next lure and wrap it concisely around the line.

“It's easier than it looks”, I say, encouragingly.

“It's easy for you to say, Dad”, Abigail says huffing a little.

“Just try it one more time,” I tell her smiling as she begins to wind up again, “remember what I told you-”

“It's all in the wrist, flex and stay fluid” she finishes, smiling at me.

“Yes,” I laugh.

She closes her eyes briefly and opens with a look of determination set on her face. Pulling the poll back and visibly relaxing her wrist. She flicks her wrist and the lure soars through the air, landing with a ‘plop’ into the water.

“A-ha got it,” she says turning to look in my direction. Only when she does, she looks to me with an -oddly familiar ghosting smirk gracing her lips. Her smirk becoming more prominent when her gaze drifts behind me. Feeling the hairs stand up on my neck and the sweat begin to pore. I follow her faze and see the ravenstag slowly inching towards us. As I turned to Abigail, she's already brushing past me and towards the stag. Fear grips me as I try to move towards her, but am stopped by the pull of my feet. Looking down to my feet, the waters turned an inky black, where the fish are gone and the waters thick and unmoving. Desperation grips me as I turn back to Abigail, in time to see the stag lift its bucks and pierce through her chest. Her screams echo across the forest around us, deafening the air, as the tar-water begins to lap at my body, pulling me under...

.

.

I gasp, sitting up. Sweat dripping down from my hair and on to my neck and face. The breeze from the cold winter morning drafts through the air and I start shivering. Abigail’s screams now echoing in the small dark corner in my head. Her smile and laughs flash before my eyes before Winston comes padding up to the side of my bed.

“Hey, Winston” I smoothed his hair back and slightly scruff under his chin and behind his ears.

The wine that comes from the living room couch is enough to bring me out of my fog. Snatching the drenched blankets off of me, I get up and walk to the kitchen. Briefly making their breakfast and coffee, I carry the bucket outside letting the pack follow. They rush out into the front lawn barking happily and scratching their hinds on the grass, I shake my head amused. Pouring the food into their bowls, clicking my tongue twice and watch as Winston pads calmly up the steps, while the rest bulldoze in--bumping and tripping over one another. Laughing at their antics I turn at the sound of an engine and see a familiar car pull up. Her pale and distressed face is what catches me off guard for a moment before a brief flare of resentment strikes across my chest before disappearing altogether.

“What are you doing here,” I say, once she reaches me.

“I guess... I'm trying to convince myself of something…” Alana begins, tucking her hands into her coat.

“Or trying to convince me of something” I state, reading her easily, as she looks down to the dogs. Winston ‘woofing’ quietly to her.

“This isn't a friendly visit. Not that we do them anymore” I say, regarding her carefully, watching for her reaction.

“No, we don't” she states, as she looks back up at me, “Did you murder Freddie Lounds?” she says squaring her shoulder and looking me in the eyes.

“What do you think?” I challenge holding her gaze.

“It's the wrong answer to tell someone who's already questioning what your capable of,” she says almost angrily.

“You're not the only one”

“Your lying, it's like you’ve slipped into a new skin since your release. And it seems it fits a little too well”, she accuses, making me relieved and yet slightly concerned at how well my performance has been.

“I warned all of you Hannibal was the killer. Jack didn't believe me. You didn't believe me. Nobody did…” my tone growing stoic, “Just like nobody will believe you if you said...it was me,”  I say, as suppressing the to urge smile.

“I’m afraid… ” she admits, “but not of you, Will”, she pauses to gauge my reaction. I stare at her impassively, leaving her nothing to dissect…

“I think...Hannibal isn't good for you. You're not good for Hannibal. And your relationship is toxic.” she states, her eyes burning through me.

“No, but Hannibal's good enough for you”, anger sparks through me, as she looks back at me, wounded.

Conceding, “You should be afraid…” I say softly, I walk back into the house and retrieve my small handgun from my desk and walk back out.

She stares stunned, as I grab her hand, and drop the gun into her glove. “Here, find a range...buy a box and practice. It takes 9mm rounds. Whoever you are afraid of, don't be afraid to use it”

Moving away from her, I click my tongue twice and the dogs follow me into the house and out of Alana's prying gaze.   

***

**Hannibal’s POV:**

Dropping the bags onto the counter, I begin to pull out the ingredients for tonight's dinner. Wills becoming couldn't be more of a thrilling experience, nonetheless being able to witness it by his side. This calls for something traditional yet, exuberating in its symbolism--something from my own experience in my becoming.

I glance at the small bird's cage to my left and see the small blue creatures flying absently around their cage. Two birds matched and in harmony with one another. It is something, I wish for Will and I to become alike. To twists and turn, neither knowing where one begins and the other ends.

His release from the hospital had become something of a challenge. Knowing not, where his mind was. As he’s always had the ability to truly deceive me. A small smile working its way to my face, as I begin to chop the vegetables.

“Your home early” Abigail announces, walking in the kitchen.

“I canceled the rest of my appointments for the day,” I say, glancing up at her.

“Mmm…and your cooking-” she pauses, glancing at the oven clock, “4 hours early” she states, smiling up at me as she brushes her thick dark brown hair away.

“Mhmm” I hum in agreement, giving her a knowing smile, as I start chopping leaves.

“He’s coming tonight isn't he” she sounds giddy and my smile widens a bit.

“Yes,” I say simply.

“Does this mean he’s ready?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

“Almost”, glancing up to see her roll her eyes. Raising an eyebrow at her rudeness, she smiles apologetically.

“Ugh, okay..” she huffs, leaning forward on the counter “what are you making him?”

“ _Emberiza hortulana_ ,” I say, decorating the tray with the darker greens.

“French?” she asks, walking over to the bird cages.

“Indeed”, wiping my hands on the dishtowel, I walk towards her.

“Your going to kill them” she states, her voice detached as she pokes a finger through to stoke one of their wings.

“Yes,” I say staring at her, watching her side profile, waiting for the slightest hint of distress.

“Can I help?” she asks, turning to look at me with a blank expression, but the twitch between her eyes gives it away.

“I would prefer it if you would continue on with your studies. When we leave here, we won't stay long at our place” I say guiding her away from the counter and back to her seat, “soon we will be across the seas and into a more vibrant setting”

“What will we do there?” she says smiling widely at the mention of leaving together.

“Anything you’d like,” I say, walking to the fridge and pulling out a bottle wine and two glasses.

“Will we be safe?” she asks warily as I pour wine in both glasses.

“For a time, however, it would be prudent that we leave once time suits us best”, handing her a glass.

“I'm not 21 yet,” she says, but takes the glass anyway.

“Yes, but you are here with me, a doctor no less,” pausing briefly to allow the wines sweet smell to flay over my senses, before continuing, “and I have the means of aiding you if you should need it. However, a simple glass of wine would not require any dire assistance” I say smirking slightly, “and as your guardian, I’m more than qualified to grant permission”

“Guardian, you say...” she says eyeing the wine in her glass, before rising it up to her lips and sipping it slightly.

“What would you call it?” I ask, raising the glass to my lips watching her.

“Well...” she says fiddling with her glass, something she does when she's anxious, “guardian as a preamble for normal people.... or at least people who aren't… close?” she says staring intently at her glass. Reminding me of someone who likes to avoid eye-contact when the conversations head's to deeper sentiment.

Moving around the island to her, with a deeper warmth inside gracing me, “Will and I...”  my palm covering her chin, tipping it to look at her blues. “We are in a nominal way, guardians, yes, but we don't quite fit the conventional ways of a family, but a family nonetheless”

Looking up at me, she smiles and repeats, “family”

“Family” I repeat, letting a small smile grace my expression. Glancing at the oven clock over her head, its down 3 hrs until Will’s expected arrival. I guide her out of the kitchen and to the staircase.

“Studies?” She questions as she walks up taking a pause to look back at me with a wine glass in her hand.

“Studies,” I say, as she grins before taking two steps at a time.

I watch her as she disappears from view, before walking back to the kitchen. Setting my glass down on the counter, and move towards the birds. Grabbing the cage, I move it swiftly across and onto the Island.

“ _jau laikas”_ I whisper. (Luthanian:" _Its time_ ")

*

*

Setting the tin down in center of the leaves and sides. I glance at the time ‘5:35 pm’. Wills due in 25 minutes. Grabbing a smaller tray, I fill a plate and bowl with food, and with a glass on the side. Moving over to the stairs and up, I reach the door at the far end of the hall and knock twice before walking in. Abigail is sprawled across her bed with a book in hand and headphones on. Walking across the room, I set the tray on her table.

“When’s Will coming?” Abigail asks as she now sits cross-legged on her bed, and pulls off her headphones.

“Any moment now,” I say, glancing at her in warning. Abigail may be able to move without being seeing about Alana. Will, however, is more intuitive and sensitive to anything relating to her presence, especially since her ‘death’.

“I know,” she says signs, getting off the bed, and approaching me.

“Soon,” I say.

“Soon” she agrees, smiling. Giving her a light peck on the forehead, I leave her to her music and readings. Her fondness for books had been quite a surprise, but nevertheless enthralling as she couldn't be more of a better fit for our lives.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I pause briefly before continuing. The smell of a familiar aftershave assaulting my senses as I walk into the dining hall.

Sliding the door open, I catch the blue-eyed young man, standing with his back to me. The fireplace basking him in an eerie glow as he turns to face me. A ghost of a smile gracing the corners of my lips.

“Hannibal” he says, piercing me with his gaze.

“Will”

 

 

 


End file.
